whole story, so far as the facts were known to him. ‘Women,’ he went on, ‘are odd creatures; it is no use trying to advance them in the world unless they have exactly the right temperament.’ After naming several examples, he referred to the failure of his own daughter, Lady Chūjō: ‘She is by no means bad looking,’ he said, ‘and she has had every possible advantage. Yet now she has managed things so badly that she is thrust aside in favour of some one[1] who seemed to have no chance at all. I sometimes feel that it is quite useless to make these family plans. I hope indeed that I shall be able to do better for this little lady[2]; and there did at one time seem to be a chance that so soon as the Crown Prince[3] was almost old enough for his Initiation I might be able to do something for her in that direction. But now I hear that the little girl from Akashi is being spoken of as the future Empress Presumptive, and if that is so I fear that no one else has any chance.’ ‘How can you say such a thing?’ asked the Princess indignantly. ‘You have far too low an opinion of your own family. The late Minister, your father, always believed firmly that we should one day have the credit of supplying a partner to the Throne, and he took immense pains to get this child of yours accepted in the Imperial Household at the earliest possible moment. If only he were alive, things would never have gone wrong like this.’ It was evident, from what she went on to say, that she felt very indignant at Genji’s conduct in the matter.
It was a very pretty sight to see little Lady Kumoi playing her mother’s great thirteen-stringed zithern. Her hair fell forward across her face with a charming effect as she bent over her instrument. Chūjō was just thinking how graceful and distinguished the child’s appearance was
